Its all My Fault, Emily!
by XxBatgirl-RobinxX
Summary: Spencer's view on when Emily lied about him so Cyrus wouldn't kill him. All the way until the end of the episode. One-Shot. Please R/R


A/n: So I'm positive no one who is reading ever even heard of me.. Its okay, I tend to stick to kid's stuff (considering I'm a kid) But my older sister was changing the channel when we were watching Spongebob and she saw Criminal Minds. She flipped and we sat watching. It only took me two minutes to figure out my favorite character was Reid. Now I call him my baby X) but I've only been watching for two days (so if characters seem to OOC tell me about it) but Spencer is so much like me so I thought it would be easy to write him. So please leave a pretty little review for me, even tell me how bad I did but I don't care. I want to have fun with it.

Disclaimer: Read the thingie above? I don't own nothing but my own user name. (If anyone steals it I would freak.)

Time Setting: Where Reid and Emily were at that Church and Cyrus kidnapped them.

POV: From Spencer's Point Of View

I sat across from Emily, her eyes were scared. Cyrus knew we were from the FBI, he cocked a gun, a shotgun, at my head. My eyes left Emily and moved to Cyrus. I gulped. I knew my life was on the line everyday, I get that. But I don't need to be killed in a church. Emily whispered something I couldn't hear. It was probably a curse. I guess this is payback from God about not going to church as a little kid. Instead my head was in a book twenty four seven. I looked down at my large feet. My long light brown hair followed the direction of my head. If I leaned forward more, I would flip over because the body goes where the head is. I glanced at Emily through my bangs.

"Its me. I'm the FBI agent," Emily said. I bolted upright shocked. No. Cyrus slowly lowered the gun from its current position on me. He then roughly grabbed one of my best friends by her black parka. Emily looked back at me, her eyes challenging me to do something. I felt trapped. I was going to tell Cyrus it was me, I stood up pushing my hands on my knees but I was forced back into a sitting position. I called Emily's name numerous times. Yelling at her to come back. That should be me without a doubt. With sad eyes I glared at the bigger fellow who was eye balling me. A sad sigh escaped my lips. If I moved without being told to I would be shot, and Emily would still be where she was now. I hope everyone is darn happy. God, its all my fault. She better be okay. I took in all my surroundings, something I was taught to do when I came into the BAU at such a young age. They called me a genius, but a real genius would have found a way not to separate us. That was dumb. I now wish that I would have spoken up first. I am NOT some baby everybody needs to protect; I just hoped by now my teammates would get that. I may be the youngest, but I've seen things that no human should have to go through. The chubby guy above me, cap down covering his sweaty face and his dirty jeans with checkered long sleeve shirt that was rolled up, five hundred and fifty checkered squares in all, hit me with the butt of his Rifle. I fell to the ground, but not before I let out a startled gasp. The stone floor smacked my shoulder blade. Ow. I lifted my upper body to see him. I didn't know his name, not that it was important, so I was just going to call him Clyde. Clyde; a popular country boy name. He looked like a Clyde, could even be one. Well Clyde held up a walkie talkie to his ear, I proceeded to get off the floor. It was uncivilized. Well it wasn't uncivilized in Asian countries, they actually eat on the ground, no utensils at all. Gah! I wish my brain wouldn't go into random mode all the time. Clyde nodded and said his good byes in the technology piece created by an engineering team in 1940 at the Galvin Manufacturing Company (forerunner of Motorola). The team consisted of Dan Noble, who conceived of the design using FM technology, Henryk Magnuski who was the principal RF engineer, Bill Vogel, Lloyd Morris, and Marion Bond. Motorola produced the hand-held AM SCR-536 radio as well during the war. It was called the "Handie-Talkie" (HT). Al Gross is sometimes said to have invented it. He also worked on the early technology behind the device from 1934 to 1941. I did it again. Clyde looked at me and sneered, I don't like that look in his eyes.

"You, you are coming with me," He jerked on my vest, ripping it in the process. I made a low growling sound that erupted from the back of my throat. He bellowed a big laugh. I was taller than him by a lot. I was about six one and he looked about five seven in a half. But he was also wider then me by far. Probably stronger then me too. I need to start working out. I gave the guy a lopsided smile. It was the opposite of how I really felt, I dropped the smile. I was terrible when it came to lying, but I could easily talk my way out of things. I decided to do that now. I laughed, a little to loud for my liking. Clyde looked at me, confusion in his blue eyes. I have been trained in Human actions, and this meant he thought I was a lunatic. Whether this was good or not, I didn't know. I laughed again, clutching my sides. Clyde, being a confused bystander to my plan, stopped in his tracks. He raised the back of his gun at me.

"Boy, now you better tell me what you are laughing 'bout. Or I'll shoot your brains out of your thick skull," he sneered. I quirked my eyebrows, one eye a tad bit more open then the other. You couldn't really see it, more like feel it. I played it off with a signature 'Hm?' His eye twitched. Good, I was getting on his nerves. Most humans give all answers, or in this case the chance of escape, when mad, confused, lost, tired, and a little slow. I hate to think everyone is less intelligent then me; but only two out of a hundred people are. I leaned down a bit, as if to hear him better. "What. Are. You. Laughing. At?" He spit through grit teeth. Its always the ones stronger then me that are the maddest; making it if we get in a hand to hand fight the other would probably win. My next expression gave off the total 'AH-HA!' Moment. I pumped my palm on my forehead. We were now in a preaching area, the building looked old and all white and raggedy. An array of chairs, eleven rows and ten in the row were almost a beige color and cracked. People were occupying the seats, in technical terms as Penelope once told me, warming the butts on the chairs. Clyde was about to ask me again, but he was pulled away from me by Cyrus. I looked around the room frantically, seeing if I could spot Emily in the crowd. I did. She was standing on the East side, her black hair was tangled and her clothes were bloody. Her face- oh my Lord. Her eyes were black and some blood poured from one of them, her cheek was nothing but cuts and a big open bleeding wound, and her usually perky lips were curved in a frown and the sides were gone completely and just left muscle. I should have said it was me, I don't care if it would have meant a bullet in my brain. If I would have said something, maybe she wouldn't look like she was attacked by a wild animal. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see her in pain. I quickly trudged over to her, back against the wall. I surprised myself, because when I took the stealth obstacle course- I failed miserably. But I seemed to be doing fine now. I breathed in deeply. It was getting to hot and it was cramped in here, my asma might just act out soon, but I pray it doesn't. I trotted behind my injured teammate. Reaching my hand out, I touched her shoulder briefly. She turned around fast, a little too fast that I was CERTAIN she would get whiplash. My lower lip quivered when I saw her up close. It was much worse then far away. Cyrus beat her to a bloody pulp; that jerk. I remembered when I was tortured. How much it hurt me, I couldn't be alone for about two weeks afterwards. But I was also drugged, and Cyrus better hope on his pathetic life that he did NOT drug Emily. Because its stupid to mess with the top Profiler in America, I would find him and make him wish he wasn't born. That pretty much meant jail. Every time I killed a soul, I would crack. I'm not like my father. My glossy eyes stared at her with shock.

"I'm so sorry, Em. It should have been me," I whispered so no one else could hear. She glared at me, and jabbed a finger right between my ribs. With every word she spit out, she would back up and jab me again.

"Don't you ever dare say that again. I was happy to do it for you. And if I ever hear you say that again there will be punishment." When she was done, she turned to the speaking Cyrus. As soon as she looked away, I rubbed my chest. She sure did hit hard. Well a girl is stronger than a guy, physically and mentally. Even if the strongest man on Earth; Paul Anderson, a world famous weight lifter from Georgia; United States. Anderson won a gold medal in 1956 Olympics game held in Melbourne, Australia as a weightlifter. Paul has a world record for lifting the greatest weight ever lifted by a man on earth when he lifted around 6,270 lb in 1957. This record is still to break and so Paul Anderson comes to the top of the list of strongest man on earth. It is very unfortunate that there was no such tile of 'strongest man on earth' in 1950s. He would have died if he had to give birth though. Its mostly because the build of a man. Women, had a triangle upper figure. Making their shoulders skinny and their hips wider than a guy's. Men were the opposite. We had wider shoulders and skinnier waist lines. A woman needs her wide waist when giving birth. Even if Paul Anderson could give birth, which was IMPOSSIBLE because he would have to have- Cyrus' talking erupted me from my thoughts. And I was on a roll there. I pouted, but remembered which situation we were in. I watched as Cyrus poured everyone a glass of wine, everyone that was actually part of the service. I watched him weirdly when he poured a three year old wine, but said nothing. Once everyone had a glass, he told them to drink it. All raised the glass to their lips, then gulped it down, staining their lips red. Then Cyrus walked back to the podium, holding the jar in his hands. He swung it gently. His mood showed care free, light less. I stared in horror as I realized what was happening. In the name of God, all die together. Cyrus poisoned everyone in the room. Children, women and men.

"In the act of God, to see who will follow in God's steps to death, I poisoned you all." A saw as families started to cry and hug each other, grown men crying their eyes out. Emily looked at me, bug eyes. I read this somewhere, I knew it! As the thought came to me, so did the books and their words. I dragged Emily to the side.

"This isn't the first time this happened in history. This is just a test to see who is willing to die in the name of God, see he's writing down everyone's name who is crying!" I fastly exclaimed pointing to the raised platform where a preacher was suppose to stand. Cyrus and Clyde were indeed writing down names, after they looked up, they would look back down and print the name. I had a hunch that later he was going to use those names to give to the BAU when they asked for people. Cyrus only wanted the loyal to stay with him. After all the names where down, Cyrus turned to us all. I held Emily's wrist. His face scrunched up in anger. He wasn't pleased. Crap.

"This was a test, there was no poison at all! It was to see who would stand up for God when he needed you! Some of you failed!" His face was no longer angry, instead sad. This guy might have a case of multiple personalities. "Its not that hard to stand with God, brothers. We can all do it if we try." Emily was digging her nails deep in my arms, some drawing blood. I didn't mind though, because its my fault we are in this mess. Cyrus came off the stage, some stupid enough to clap for him. I stood tall and proud when he came to us. He pushed me aside like a feather. I fell to the ground and he grabbed Emily. "Back to your room now. I'll have my mother in law look at ya." Emily and Cyrus left the scene early. Most of those attending were still sitting in their seats, getting over the shock of almost dying. I counted about fifty two people out of the four hundred and ten who cried. I wonder what was in store for them. In the history book, the priest killed them as a message to other none God followers. Cyrus came back and dismissed everybody. I tried to blend in with the crowd of leaving people, but I was taller then the tallest man here. I was easy to spot. Clyde grabbed me by the shirt collar and pulled me out of line and next to him and Cyrus. One had a Rifle and the other had two hand guns. All pointing at me.

"Okay, Mr. Reid, Mr. Smartie pants. We need you to help us," I held my hands over my head. I didn't want to help them, but they had Emily. And I wasn't going to let her be beaten and die because of a stupid mistake. I nodded, my eyes tired. I need some coffee! Forget about Coffee. Cyrus smiled and patted my back roughly, I arced my back forward with every pat. I'm not going to like this. "We need you to come up with a plan, a smart one too. We need food and medical supplies, our men are hurt and hungry. What do we do?" It took all the strength in me not to say give up. Because honestly, it would have been easier. Instead I thought for exactly fifty three seconds and nine milliseconds.

"Well.. How about you let the FBI take your none believers, have them go and leave. Then ask for some supplies, it would be a larger amount then usual and you will be sure to have only the loyal ones at your side-" Cyrus cut me off on my rant. Nobody ever listens to my rants. I stopped mid sentence, sound coming out of my throat and then disappearing without a trace.

"Good idea, Kid." Cyrus picked up a cell phone from his pocket, and dialed the number that only belonged to the FBI. Only knowing it from his missed calls catalog. I swallowed some of my spit. Please get the plan, I begged in my mind, kind of expecting Derek's voice saying sure. It never did, and I never expected it to. I hummed a little as the phone rung. JJ answered the line. JJ, please get the plan. She introduced herself then gave the phone off to a different FBI agent. I couldn't tell who though, because I wasn't that close to really hear the deep husky voice. It was defiantly male. Cyrus told the other liner my plan, after a pause he smiled and nodded. He hung up. "Good news, Kid. Your plan worked." Why does everyone call me Kid? I am twenty eight for God's sake! He then practically kicked the others out. Telling them to get their stuff and leave to the front. And when they did, they were rescued. Now it only came to me that I still needed to get the others out. I moaned quietly so the two creeps wouldn't hear me. How can I do that? Soon enough, food and medical supplies came to the front door, and Cyrus made Jessica get it. She's so young. At age fifteen she was married and had a baby already. It sounds like the nineteenth century all over again. Jessica gave the food to apparently the cook, who would divide all the food equally. I smelled Fried Chicken and a tiny bit of... Of... What was that other smell? I couldn't quite get my finger wrapped around it. Cyrus faced me and placed both hands on the side of my arms. I whimpered a little, not knowing what he was about to do and because all the villains reach for the arms. So pretty much my arms are bruised. Cyrus licked his lips, Rifle on a strap and flung around his body.

"Now we need another idea, so they will leave the church. Ya know, the FBI," he said. I'm not his stooge, so why was he treating me like this? Oh yea. He's the bad guy, he just can. I cocked my head to the left in concentration. Nothing plagued my mind for a minute. But then an idea flashed in my mind. Now that I think of it, I could probably be a tough bad guy to beat. No way though was I turning evil. I have the best job and friends any guy can ask for. I can save all of them after all. I smiled a little, unknown to the others in the room with me.

"You want this public. Usually when things become public, the police give them what they want so they don't look like bad guys. This could work to your advantage." They smiled to their peeks. Cyrus snatched one of Clyde's hand guns. He walks, almost in slow motion, outside. He starts shooting out at the sky like a mad man. I plugged my ears, boy was this loud. From behind me I saw everybody leaving for the tunnels, trying to be as quiet as possible. Emily figured out a way for them to get out. Yes! My eyes twinkled, and did a little dance. That stopped when Cyrus came in, a button to blow an entire city in his hands. I shook my head and opened my mouth wide. "Wait! God doesn't want you all to die! Your his children! The only way to really win is to... OFH!" Cyrus elbowed me in the gut with the gun. I sunk to the floor. I know from the feeling he cracked at least two ribs from that. He did it again, but this time with my force. I winced and inhaled sharply. Then with his fist he punched me in my nose.

"You are telling me about God, son! Are you questioning my religion, Boy?" I shook my head.

"No, I just don't think its a very smart idea. That's all!" I breathed out painfully, blood creeping in between my teeth. I punched me again and reloaded his gun. I was in deep crap. And who would come and save the day? Of course it would be Derek Morgan, my "older brother." He busted through the doors. His gun flashing everywhere, he shoots Clyde. Once he saw my predicament, he loaded his gun to shoot. But Cyrus shoots first. Derek ducks as the bullet just missed him. While Cyrus is frantically trying to reload, Derek shoots him in the chest once. Cyrus lays on the ground; dead. He dropped the Doomsday device on his way down. Derek rushes to me, bending down to help pick me up. I shot him a grateful smile. Jessica comes running in and Derek let's go of me for a second, I watch the two.

"Come one, Sweetie. Let's get out of here," Derek says holding a hand out to the girl. Careful to stand near me. The unsuspected happens, and Jessica picks up the device, rage evident on her face. Before saying anything, I push Morgan to the exit so he is in front.

"MOVE!" I yell, following him. Just as I get to the door, Jessica presses the button, sending the place aflame. The force sends me forward into a wall. After a minute of trying to get air and for the fire to calm down, Derek lifts me up. We both cough. I grabbed his wrist and came to the front. Where Emily was staying, standing outside the building, pure shock on her dismantled face. As soon as she sees me she bolts. Emily pulled me into a tight hug, never letting go. I hug her back.

"Don't ever do that again, Spencer." I kind of go into a wow mode when she called me by my first name. Most just call me Reid. But that's alright I guess. She snuggled into my chest. I laugh. And its all my fault.

A/n: so tell me how I did please! 


End file.
